Through the Dark
by skoolgirl101
Summary: Darkness cannot drive out Darkness, only Light can do that. Hate cannot drive out Hate, only Love can do that. --Martin Luther King Jr.


**Through the Dark**

**Chapter One: Long Way From Home**

**A/N: New story! YAY! I'm just going to wing this one and see where my pen takes me. I have only one thing about this story that I am definitely sure will happen and the rest is just supposed to happen, I guess. I'll attempt to make this story more mature than my other ones and that is why the rating is what it is. Although, like I said, I'm not sure how it will turn out. I don't write angst stories too often so this will be a challenge for me and hopefully I can pull it off. I'm sorry if any of the characters, especially Draco, are too OOC or if the story line is too clichéd. I'll try my best not to make that happen.**

**The title of the story is from KT Tunstall's song of the same name and this chapter's title is from Waylon Jennings' song Long Way From Home.**

Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were sitting quietly in the living room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione was, as always, reading while Harry and Ron were playing a game of wizard's chess. They all looked up at each other nervously when they heard an uncustomary knock at the front door.

"Who could that be? The Order doesn't have to knock," Hermione wondered aloud. Harry got up and walked to the window.

"They must have an invisibility cloak since I can't see who it is."

There was another knock, sharper this time.

"Do you think it's safe to open the door?" Hermione asked, worried now.

"Keep your wand ready," Harry replied.

"We'll be right behind you, Hermione," Ron added.

Hermione slowly, cautiously, walked to the front door and unlocked it. As she opened it, she pointed her wand out and demanded, "Show yourself."

"Please. Can you let me in?" said a voice from the seemingly empty air in front of her.

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, Granger, it's me. Can I come in? It's freezing out here."

"How should I know that you don't have any of your fellow Death Eaters with you, ready to attack the house?"

"Well, you're just going to have to trust me, then."

She looked at the place where she believed his eyes to be, beneath the cloak and thought hard about what she should do.

"Oh, just let me in…please."

"Ok, come on," she relented as she moved aside to let him through and closed the door.

He took off the cloak to reveal drenched black robes and disheveled hair. Never had Hermione seen him look so unkempt. Harry and Ron ran into the foyer, wands brandished.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here, Malfoy?" Ron demanded angrily.

"Calm yourself, Weasley," Malfoy answered, "I'm not going to kill you. I'm here on business."

Hermione could tell that the annoyance in his voice was not completely genuine. There was an underlying melancholic tone in his voice that he was attempting to hide from them.

"Business? What business?" Ron inquired with suspicion.

"So, McGonagall hasn't told you?"

"Told us what?" asked Harry.

"Or you haven't read it in the papers?" Malfoy asked, turning to face each of them individually.

"Malfoy, what's happened?" Hermione asked calmly from behind him. He turned to her and just said, "I just need to speak with Arthur Weasley."

She could see the sorrow in his eyes. Something bad had happened to him. Something personal. She just couldn't think of what. What could possibly make him look so…sad? He was paler than when she had last seen him, and thinner. He looked as if he hadn't gotten any sleep in days. Hermione knew from his gaze that he was sincere. She had to believe him.

"All right. He's in the kitchen. This way." She began to walk towards it when Ron pulled her back.

"How do we know we can trust him?"

She looked at Malfoy and then back to Ron.

"I don't know, honestly. I just do."

"Are you daft, Hermione?"

"Something's happened to him, Ron. He's not the same."

She pulled away from him and continued to the kitchen with Malfoy following closely behind.

"Mr. Weasley, someone's here to see you," she announced as she met the gaze of the house patriarch from where he sat at the head of the long dining table. When Arthur saw who it was, he looked surprised.

Malfoy said softly from behind Hermione, "I judge you've received Professor McGonagall's letter."

"Oh, well, yes. I just never thought…well, come, come sit. Molly, get him something to eat. He looks practically starved."

Malfoy sat down slowly next to him and accepted the bowl of steaming hot vegetable soup from Molly Weasley.

"Thank you."

"Would you like a piece of bread, dear?"

"Yes, thank you."

Hermione just stood in the doorway, shocked at how well the other were taking it. She got her bearings however and went to help Molly by getting a mug of fresh coffee for Malfoy. As she placed the mug in front of him, he looked up at her with those sad gray eyes and said so softly she almost didn't hear it, "Thank you."

She just nodded in reply.

"After Mr. Malfoy here finishes his supper, he and I will be in the library. I trust we won't be disturbed." The other Order members around the table nodded.

"Yes, of course, Arthur," Molly replied.

Hermione noticed that Malfoy ate his soup with such enthusiasm that she began to believe that he hadn't eaten a full meal in days. When he finished, she took his dishes and put them in the sink.

"Well, Malfoy, come with me to the library. We have quite a bit to discuss," Arthur said as he stood from the table. Malfoy rose as well and followed him out of the kitchen. When they were out of earshot, Hermione turned to Molly.

"What exactly is he doing here?"

"Oh hush now, Hermione. He's been through a trying time," she replied as she began to clear the rest of the dishes as the remaining Order members left the room quietly.

"Yes, I can certainly see that," as she helped to gather more dishes.

"Hermione, I would ask you not to contemplate this further but I know you too well to actually believe you'd heed my advice." She smiled softly, "But I trust you will not badger Mr. Malfoy with questions."

"Of course not. I just want to know why he's here. He just looks so sad." Hermione looked at the now empty doorway in which Malfoy had passed.

"Well, I should think he would after what he's been through."

"I suppose," Hermione said softly in response.

Molly laid a motherly hand on her shoulder.

"Now, Hermione, I think you need to wait for Mr. Malfoy to tell you, if he wishes that is, himself. It really isn't my place to say."

Hermione smiled as Molly continued, "Now go and make up the guest room for Mr. Malfoy."

"So he's staying the night?"

"He's staying for quite a few, I should think."

Hermione wanted to ask more questions but decided against it and walked up the stairs, stopping to grab a few fresh linens from the hall closet, to the guest room.

***

As she was fixing the blanket on the bed, Malfoy entered the room so quietly that she only noticed him when she looked up. She tried not to let it show that he had startled her.

"I just need to put the pillowcases on and then I'll leave you alone," she said, attempting to be nonchalant but failing. He only nodded at her comment.

His eyes were unnerving as he watched her, so much so she could barely meet his gaze. When she was finished, she walked to the door but stopped, turned to look at him sitting on the edge of the bed and said, "Do you have any other clothes?"

"No. Just these that I have on," he murmured.

"I'll get some of Bill's old ones then. Is that all right?"

"Yes, thank you." He was staring at the wall now.

"I'll bring you a cup of tea as well, ok?"

He nodded but continued to stare at the bedroom wall across from him. She turned to leave but turned again and said, "Get some sleep, Malfoy." He looked at her then, but still said nothing. "Please," she added before she smiled softly as she left the room and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the door and let out a long breath, before she continued down the stairs and into the kitchen. There she met Harry and Ron, who were sitting around the table and listening to Arthur.

"I trust that you boys will not give Mr. Malfoy any trouble during his stay here. Is that clear?" His gaze was fixed mostly on his son.

"Yes, Dad," Ron answered sullenly.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Harry added.

"You, as well, Hermione?" Arthur looked up at her standing in the doorway.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley."

"Good, good. Now if you three don't mind, I shall be in my room getting some much needed rest," he said as he stood from the table. He gave Hermione a pat on the head as he passed her through the doorway.

"All I'm saying is I'm not being nice if he's not," Ron quipped.

"Ronald, did you not just hear your father?" Molly scolded.

"But, Mum—" he began to protest but Hermione interrupted him, "Ron, please. This is not the time for old, schoolboy grudges. We're not children any longer."

"But—"

"If he needs our help, we'll give it to him. Enough said."

"I still don't like him," Ron muttered under his breath.

"No one said you had to like him, Ron. Anyway, it's about time for you two to get to bed. Big day tomorrow."

"Yes, Mother Granger," Ron teased.

Harry laughed and stood with Ron and gave her and Molly kisses good night.

"Sweet dreams, boys," Molly called after them.

"Mrs. Weasley, does Bill have some old clothes that Malfoy could have? He only has the clothes on his back," Hermione asked as she put the teakettle on the stove.

"Of course, Hermione, dear. I'll just go get them for you. So thoughtful of you, dear," she said smiling as she left the room.

When she came back, Mrs. Weasley laid a basket of clothes on the table.

"Are you going to bed soon, dear?"

"Yes. Just after I drop this tea off with Malfoy," Hermione answered as she poured the tea into a cup.

"All right, Hermione. I'm going on to bed. Sweet dreams, dear."

"Good night."

***

Hermione knocked on Malfoy's bedroom door minutes later holding his cup of tea and levitating the basket of clothes behind her. There was no answer. She slowly opened the door and realized he had fallen asleep with the lamp atop his nightstand still on. She set the basket on top of the dresser and laid the cup of tea beside the lamp. She removed his shoes slowly so as not to wake him and set them under his cloak and robes, which hung in the closet. She then covered him with the blanket but looked at him before she turned out the light.

In sleep, he looked like an angel with not a care in the world. But she knew, under that façade, he had something troubling him, perhaps any number of things. 'What had this poor man gone through to make him this way?' she thought as she closed the door and went to her own bedroom.

***

The next morning, Hermione woke early and made her way down the stairs and into the empty kitchen.

'Wow, it must be really early. Not even Mrs. Weasley's up yet,' she thought to herself. She walked to the Muggle coffee maker she had bought herself and began to brew herself a cup. She had recently gotten fond of the stuff, especially on long nights when she waited for Harry and Ron to return from various missions. Now it was always a customary thing to see Hermione holding a mug of coffee or to have one on a table beside her as she read.

This morning, when it was done, she took her mug and sat at the table and began to sip from it slowly. Her back was to the door so she did not notice that someone had come up behind her until he said softly, "Good morning."

Despite his soft tone, she jumped, startled to find that she was alone no longer. He stood, leaning against the doorframe.

"Good morning," she replied, "Would you like a cup of coffee? It's fresh."

"Yes. Thank you," he said just as softly as before. Hermione rose from her chair and made her way to the counter. "Or perhaps some tea? Sit down, please," she gestured to the seat across from the one she had just vacated. He lowered himself on the chair gingerly and answered, "No, coffee's just fine. Thank you."

"All right." She turned and took another mug from the cupboard above her head and poured some coffee into it. She then placed it in front of Draco and returned to her seat. She took a sip from her own mug and sat back in her chair.

"So, you noticed that I brought you your tea and some of Bill's old clothes to your room last night, I hope."

"Yes, I did," he murmured.

"I didn't want to wake you. You had already fallen asleep when I came."

"I know. Sorry about that."

"No need to apologize. You looked like you needed the rest."

"I only slept for an hour or so. Then I couldn't go back to sleep." He looked down at his hands, which clutched his mug tightly. She sensed that he was keeping something from her but she knew not to pry. If he wanted to tell her the reason why he couldn't sleep last night, he would tell her on his own time.

"So why are you up so early?" he asked suddenly.

"Um…" she said, startled by the question. "I usually wake up this early. I've always been sort of an early bird. What about you?"

"Couldn't sleep," he said before taking a sip from his mug.

"Oh."

A comfortable silence fell between them.

"Is there anything going on today?" he asked after some minutes went passed.

"Harry, Ron and a few of the others are going on another raid of a suspected Death Eater hideout."

"You're not going?"

"No. Not this time."

"So have they told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Why I'm here."

"Not in any great detail." She did not want to pry for fear of being rude.

"I'm in hiding. I'm a deserter. And I've joined the Order."

She choked at that last part.

"You've what?"

"I've joined the Order. I no longer saw the ideals of following the Dark Lord."

"Well, good for you. That's really brave of you. You came to the right place. I assure you, we'll be doing all that we can to keep you safe."

She then uncharacteristically, laid her hand over his. At first he flinched at the intimate motion, which surprised even her. But he soon relaxed and she briefly kept her atop his on the table. Until they both heard movement from the stairs, that is, and moved apart quickly.

Seconds later, Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen and said, with a look of slight surprise, "Oh! Good morning, dears. Up early, aren't we?" but smiling nonetheless.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," Draco and Hermione replied in unison and shared a look.

"Thank you, Hermione, for getting the coffee ready."

"No trouble," Hermione answered, smiling.

"Now to get breakfast fixed," Mrs. Weasley said almost to herself. Hermione stood up and said, "Mrs. Weasley, let me help."

"Oh tosh, child. You sit," she admonished.

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm up anyway. It's no trouble."

"At least finish your coffee, then, dear," she relented reluctantly.

"I already have. See?" She showed her the empty mug. Mrs. Weasley looked ready to protest but finally said, "Oh all right. You can help with the eggs. Mr. Malfoy, would you like a spot of breakfast? Oh, of course you do. Look at you. Almost as skinny as Hermione here."

"Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione warned jokingly as she cracked two eggs into a bowl. Hermione noticed that Malfoy smiled softly. It was the first time she had seen him smile since he had arrived. It was nice but it had traces of sadness in it and it didn't reach his eyes.

"I eat my fill and nothing less," Hermione said, defending herself. Mrs. Weasley stirred batter for pancakes and admonished, "Oh tosh."

Then Malfoy said, unexpectedly, "On the contrary, I think Granger's perfectly fine."

They both looked at him as if he had slugs coming out of his ears.

"As far as her weight goes, I mean," he added uncomfortably, before taking a huge gulp of his coffee and looking away quickly.

"Well…thanks, Malfoy," Hermione replied quietly but surely.

"Don't mention it, Granger," he said, still not able to look at her comfortably. Judging from his tone, she gathered that he really meant for her to never mention it. The only sound that filled the room after that was Mrs. Weasley's stirring and Hermione's beating.

"So, Malfoy, how do you like your eggs?" Hermione inquired as she prepared to fill the frying pan.

"Scrambled with cheese. But you don't have to make me anything, really, Granger."

"Nonsense, Malfoy," she said as she poured the beated eggs into the pan. When they finished, she set his plate and fork in front of him and said, "There you go."

"Thanks, Granger," he replied.

"You're welcome, Malfoy."

Just then, Harry, Ron and Ginny bounded into the kitchen followed by Arthur Weasley.

"Morning, Mum," Ron and Ginny greeted as they kissed Mrs. Weasley on the cheek. Harry did the same. Then they all turned to Hermione and kissed her good morning as well.

"Morning, guys," Hermione replied, smiling at her family.

"Well, good morning, everyone," Arthur Weasley exclaimed, "Molly," she he kissed his wife, "Hermione, Malfoy." Ron started at the way his father said these two names. To him, it didn't seem to be two but one.

"Good morning, Mr. Weasley," they both replied.

"Boys, sit. You've got a big day today and you'll need your strength," Molly ordered and they all obeyed. Ginny went to help Hermione with the eggs and bacon. She whispered conspiratorially in her best friend's ear, "So did you get it out of him? The reason he's here, I mean."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at Draco. He did not seem to have heard Ginny.

"Please, Ginny. Not now."

Ginny glanced back as well and replied, "All right. But you better tell me later."

"Sure, Gin."

***

After the breakfast dishes were cleared, everyone rose from the table. Draco made his way back upstairs to his room as Ron and Harry prepared to leave with Arthur and a few various other Order members. Mrs. Weasley was kissing them all goodbye, lingering in her husband and son as well as Harry, whom she considered to be a seventh son. Hermione watched quietly, waiting for her turn. There were always teary goodbyes nowadays. There was no way of knowing if any of them would come back.

"Now, be careful. All of you," Mrs. Weasley commanded through tears as she held Ron's face between her hands. He pulled her in for a hug and whispered softly, "Don't worry, Mum. We will. I promise."

Hermione then approached Harry and hugged him. He hugged her tightly back. "Harry, please, just be careful." She could think of nothing else to say. "And come back in one piece," she continued as she straightened his black cloak tighter around him.

"We will, 'Mione," Harry replied. She turned to Ron and straightened his cloak as well, after hugging him, even though his mother had just done that for him seconds before.

"You, too," she said to him. "Keep warm."

"Always the practical one, eh, Hermione?" Ron teased, if only to lighten the gloomy situation. But she could see that he held back tears in his clear blue eyes. She stroked his cheek tenderly before saying back, "Well, someone has to be." She gave him one last hug before continuing onto Mr. Weasley and the others.

When they all left, Hermione was left with tears threatening to fall and a runny nose. She sniffled softly and turned to go back into the kitchen, but saw Draco, at the foot of the stairs, an offered handkerchief in his hand.

She looked into his eyes for longer than she deemed was necessary before she took the embroidered handkerchief from his cold hands. It was almost disturbing, seeing this young man with the blond hair and the old, old eyes looking back at her. He had such a pensive expression, so lost and so sad. Like somebody always looking for something he can't find.

"Thank you," she said softly. She wiped her tears and blew her nose ungracefully. "Sorry. I'll wash this."

"Keep it. It's not like I don't have others."

"No. It's yours."

"Whatever you say, Granger," he replied before he turned back towards the stairs back to his room. Hermione stood at the foot of the stairs, staring after him, surprised by his generosity and yet not at the same time. After some time had passed and Draco had long reached his room, she turned and entered the kitchen where Ginny waited expectantly.

"So?" she asked with a smile on her face.

"So, what, Ginny?" Hermione answered as she made her way to the kitchen sink, where she began to wash out Malfoy's handkerchief.

"Did he tell you why he's here?" Ginny questioned.

"Yes," Hermione replied, not giving her any information.

"And?"

"Ginny, I don't think it's my place to say. It's his personal business."

"Since when do you care about Malfoy's privacy?"

"Since I realized he's only human. Besides, I have a feeling he's not telling me everything."

"But what has he told you?"

"Ginny, stop it. I can't tell you. It's his business, not ours. Leave me and him be."

"Fine." She glanced at what Hermione was washing and said, "What's that?"

"Nothing. Just Malfoy's handkerchief," she revealed reluctantly.

"_Just_ his handkerchief? Hermione!"

"What? I was crying as Harry and Ron left earlier and he offered it. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that he was uncharacteristically nice to you."

"So?" Hermione asked even though she understood Ginny's point.

"But it's Malfoy. Why, in Merlin's sweet name, would he be nice? And to you, of all people?"

"Gee, thanks, Gin."

"You know what I mean."

"I don't know, Gin. Something's happened to him. Something that's changed him."

"Something as in…?" Ginny prodded.

"That's just it. I don't know. He hasn't told me. As if he will."

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Ginny, why _would_ he? We're not friends, close enough to tell each other secrets and personal feelings."

"He's obviously shown some sort of kinship towards you. Don't think I haven't noticed."

"Noticed what?" Hermione wondered genuinely.

"I've seen the way he watches you. And how you get this certain look on your face when you're concentrating on something too much."

"So?"

"So, you're trying to figure him out. And he's trying to figure you out as well."

"That's ridiculous, Ginny."

"Is it? Is it really so hard for you to believe?"

"Yes, actually."

"Which part?"

"The part where he's trying to figure me out."

"Ah ha! So you _are_ thinking about him!" Ginny exclaimed happily. Ginny loved to gloat.

"I didn't say that."

"But neither did you say that you find it ridiculous that you could ever think about him."

Hermione just silently looked at her friend for a few seconds before she turned the faucet off and wrung out the handkerchief. She then hung it on the towel rack on the oven door to dry. Finally, she said, "I just want to know what's made him this way. It's unnerving, the way his eyes are so filled with such sorrow. It's almost painful to look at him."

"Well, certainly not too painful. He's gorgeous." Ginny grinned widely.

"Ginny! How could you! Think of Harry!" Hermione scolded jokingly. Ginny laughed.

"Oh, please! Like I'd ever go for Malfoy. Besides, I have a feeling he's not mine to have anyway," she continued thoughtfully.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione wondered.

"I don't know, really. Just a feeling."

"Oh, Ginny. You and your utterly bizarre feelings," Hermione replied, smiling.

"They are correct for the most part, aren't they?" Ginny argued.

"That's true. Ginny, the Intuitive One."

She laughed. "Shut up, 'Mione!"

"Oh, Wise Ginny, how I wish I was as in tune with the universe as you are," Hermione said mockingly.

"Why don't you go read a book, Bookworm, and leave me be?" Ginny laughed.

"My pleasure," Hermione pretended to huff to the parlor. Ginny caught up with her and linked her arm through her best friend's arm, laughing.

"So you will tell me when he tells you, right?"

"Ginny!"

"Please!" she pleaded.

Hermione looked in her blue eyes and succumbed to the pressure she put on her.

"Oh all right! But it stays between us. And who know if he'll even tell me anything?"

"Oh, he will. Don't you worry your bushy little head about it."

"So what are you, a Seer, now?" Hermione joked.

"Nope. Just intuitive."

They both laughed together at that.

***

Later that evening, Hermione took the now dried handkerchief from the kitchen and climbed the stairs to Malfoy's room. She knocked softly she could tell from the shuffling he made that he had been in bed already. He opened the door slowly and looked as if he wondered why she was standing outside his door.

"Sorry if I woke you," she said.

"I wasn't asleep," he answered matter-of-factly.

"I brought back your handkerchief, washed it, too," she blurted as she handed it to him quickly. He looked down at it and then at her.

"I told you to keep it."

"But it's yours. I can't take it from you."

"I told you, Granger. I don't need it." He placed it in the palm of her hand and covered it with his own. A shot of electricity flowed down to her toes at his touch. "It's yours now."

"But—"

"Must you always be so stubborn? Merlin, Granger!" he interrupted.

'Now there's the Draco Malfoy I know,' she thought to herself.

"It just doesn't feel right to take something of yours. Especially if it has your initials on it."

"So change them to your own. You're a witch, right?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to change them. It wouldn't be right."

"Since when do you think I care about doing something right?"

"Since last night, when you came to the door," she said resolutely before she left him for her own bedroom, the handkerchief with the initials D.M. embroidered in gold thread dangling from her hand.

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and I am in no way making any profit through the writing of this fic.**

**Reviews would be much appreciated. Thank you.**


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